


you fill my lungs with sweetness (and you fill my head with you)

by FutureAlien



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Touching, mention of Uther's death, really just a lot of softness and love, this is very self indulgent but i think we can all use a little love right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureAlien/pseuds/FutureAlien
Summary: For once, Arthur didn’t mind leaning on another. He just revelled in the closeness of his servant, his friend, this man who had taught him the meaning of love. Arthur held onto Merlin, feeling as if he’d finally come home.+Arthur is crumbling under the weight of his new responsibilities as king. Merlin takes care of him.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 287





	you fill my lungs with sweetness (and you fill my head with you)

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling a bit anxious before bed and decided to write this to calm myself down. It's a bit messy and terribly self-indulgent, but I hope it brings a little bit of calm into your life as well. Let me know if you liked this, that really means a lot to me. Stay strong out there, ily xx

Arthur let himself sag into a chair with a groan. It had been a long day, in what was already a long week. No attempt for the crown, or his life, had been made. Instead, the new king had been forced to undergo a seemingly endless array of trials: council meetings, negotiations with nobles, meals with neighbouring kings. Today had been the first time he’d even been able to train his guards. He was grateful for the opportunity to move a little, but his muscles had been stiff. Now, he ached all over, his whole body sore as well as a persistent headache. Somewhere deeper lay another pain, still raw. His father had passed away more than a month ago, yet the bustle of his new duties had made it impossible to give his loss a place.

He could feel the grief washing over him, all frayed edges and stabs. Arthur had always known he would have to bear his crown alone. But in his pain, he found himself desperately wishing his father was still here. His head was swimming, his very soul filled with a fear he had never known before. Never in his life had the future seemed so daunting, such an insurmountable challenge to be overcome. 

Arthur was not one to cry quickly. All the same, he could hear a whimper escape his mouth as he leaned onto his desk, head heavy in his hands. How had his father borne it, this enormous weight on his shoulders? Why hadn’t he taught him better, told Arthur what to do now that he was all he was ever meant to become. He was a king now - had become so almost outside of his own volition. To be a king was not the difficulty he had once imagined it to be. To be a good king, however. To do right by all those whose life were dependent on him. He couldn’t start. He had no way to start. 

This was how Merlin found him; bowed over his desk, shoulders impossibly tense as he tried to fight back the tears. Only when Merlin placed a hand on his neck did the king look up. His eyes were red and haunted, and the sight of them squeezed Merlin’s heart. Time after time, he had told Arthur of his trust in him, but it never really seemed to penetrate the doubt clouding Arthur’s mind. First, he had dismissed his words as those of a servant, bound to be loyal by his work and pay; later, as a friend, trusted to encourage and stand by his side. Even now, Merlin’s words would be regarded as simply a lover’s faith. No talk of prophecy could sway Arthur to believe in his own future. If anything, it added an extra weight to his shoulders, another expectation to disappoint.

“Hey there,” Arthur whispered, looking up at Merlin with nothing short of devotion writ on his tired face. “I was wondering where you were.”

Merlin smiled, his attempt to seem offended failing miserably. “I wasn’t even late! You’re just terribly impatient.”

In place of an answer, the king let himself sink backwards, his head pressed against Merlin’s front. Mindlessly, the servant caressed the blond locks. Arthur closed his eyes, letting his mind drift away from laws and regulations, dissolving into the comfort that was Merlin. 

“Don’t go falling asleep here,” he could hear his love whisper, though he sounded far away. Arthur wanted to nod, but even that movement was too much.

Merlin waited a moment as he watched his king balance on the edge of sleep. The fine strands of his golden hair were stuck together with sweat, his eyes moving under the closed lids. With a soft finger, Merlin traced the lines in Arthur’s face. The deep furrow between his brows soothed at the touch; tracing the lines around his mouth made him smile. 

Arthur looked so worn, so tired. He cared so much - Merlin loved how much he cared - but it was taking its toll. 

“If you get into bed, you can sleep there,” Merlin promised. “Maybe I’ll even massage some of those knots away.” He gave the king’s shoulder an affirming squeeze, eliciting a deep groan. 

Arthur raised himself with the utmost care, Merlin keeping an arm around him in support as he trudged to the fourposter. For once, he didn’t mind leaning on another. He just revelled in the closeness of his servant, his friend, this man who had taught him the meaning of love. Arthur held onto Merlin, feeling as if he’d finally come home.

With half-closed eyes he let Merlin dispose of his tunic. His long finger were like butterflies against his skin, leaving sparks in their wake no matter how often they had touched him. There was no passion in Merlin’s movements as he lowered the king to his bed - only care, a care so full and unknown that Arthur’s throat felt restricted with tears. Was this what a mother’s love felt like? A soft kiss on his forehead, a tucking in of the sheets around him? Or was it more? It felt like more. Anything Merlin did felt like so much more than anyone had done for Arthur in his life. 

Merlin slipped into the bed himself. Once again did a hand find its way to Arthur’s face, caressing it as if love alone could absolve the worries underneath the king’s skin. 

“Turn around?” Merlin asked, pressing sweet kisses to Arthur’s neck, not frenzied ones that left bruises, but promises, consolations. _You’ll be alright_ , Merlin kissed. _I love you. I love you so much._

Arthur never wanted to feel anything else.

He rolled onto his stomach, body protesting with the arranging of each limb. But then there was Merlin, hands firm but careful as he started massaging Arthur’s neck. Starting at the base of his skull, where the pain from his head seemed to be gathered, Merlin worked his way down his spine, then moved his hands up again to roll the aching flesh of Arthur’s shoulders under his palms. The side of a hand followed the ridge of Arthur’s shoulder blade, then again on the other side, making him groan in relief. Fingers pressing circles over his back, adding extra pressure until the painful muscles loosened up. 

Merlin’s hands were warm, every touch setting a nerve ending aflame only to douse it with confident ministrations. For a moment, Merlin stopped, and Arthur immediately felt the loss. Then the smell of lavender filled the room, and his servant’s hands were back, spreading the relaxing oil with utmost care. Another kiss, pressed to his crown. 

Arthur didn’t know if Merlin was using magic on him right now. He didn’t care much. All he knew was that his whole body seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions, all the tension that had been building since his father’s death disappearing under Merlin’s touch. His mind turned blank, no thoughts important except the tracking of Merlin’s touch upon his skin. 

Arthur knew he was going to fall asleep anytime now. He wished he had the words to thank Merlin, to tell him that he felt as if all his fears had abated, leaving room for his whole body to overflow with love. Not the lust or admiration he usually felt when Merlin was there, but a deeper, unassuming love, a gratitude that seemed to stem from his very soul. Every touch, every gentle kiss, fed into this feeling, this golden warmth enveloping Arthur and Merlin and everyone around them, for Arthur found he had enough love to share with the whole kingdom. 

Merlin pressed his lips against the crook of his neck, and for once Arthur understood what Merlin had told him so many times before. _You are the Once and Future King, and I am Emrys. I swear myself to you in life and death, to support you and stand by you until the end of times. I cannot shoulder this burden for you, but I know you can carry it._

_There will be times I won’t understand you, just as you won’t always understand me. But even if there are things you must do by yourself, even if all I can do is hold your hand in silence, or wait until we are once again reunited, I can promise you this: You, Arthur Pendragon, will never be alone._

  
  



End file.
